Laughlines
by MockJayPhoenix12
Summary: After a fifteen-hundred year wait, Arthur has finally returned. All Merlin has to do is overcome the fear that it's somehow too good to be true. EmotionalWhump!Merlin, Worried!Arthur. Non-slash.
1. Chapter 1

A/N- I started this THE DAY AFTER the finale, so be warned of H/C and the super amount of ANGST! Hopefully not _too_ melodramatic- I wasn't sure I'd post it, (having been in quite an emotional state myself at the time, and less competent at staying _under_ the over-dramatic line) but I think that anyone else suffering from post-finale blues will find it worthwhile. I'm a little obsessed with Merlin and Arthur's "lives after Camelot." Please note that the 'sleeping together' thing in entirely platonic- just friends who don't want to leave one another's side after being parted for centuries.

This stands apart from "But One Side" and "Damaged at Best." In this story, Merlin's didn't play a part in bringing about his own immortality.

Hope y'all enjoy! Please tell me what you think!

12-25-12

Laughlines

Chapter 1

Merlin was calling for him- it was the first thing Arthur noticed, his friend's distress being the second. When the cries escalated to panicked screams, Arthur's eyes flew open and he sat even before noticing that Merlin was also sitting up in bed, his hands clawing at the blanket that covered him.

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted beside him, gripping his friend's shuddering shoulders. "It's okay! We're okay!" His voice settled in volume as Merlin choked on his last scream, and began to sob- _hard_, as if nothing could ever comfort him. He reached out to Arthur's face in the darkness, feeling it over before cupping both hands around it.

"You're-… you're okay," he whimpered, panting so much that Arthur barely made out even those of his words that were spoken more strongly. "…Here with me- …You're here… me…"

"Yeah," Arthur whispered, out of breath himself from the start. He clutched his friend's wrist. "I'm here."

He took in a deep breath and released it slowly. _You just scared me half to death, Merlin_, he thought, but held his tongue. Merlin was still so upset by this, and a good deal more than he ought to be over any nightmare. Yes, centuries had passed, but the Merlin that Arthur remembered never allowed himself to be so disturbed by something which had already passed- yet here they sat holding each other, long seconds after Merlin had woken, and he still cried as harshly as the moment he woke.

"Come here," Arthur said in a soft voice, and gently pulled Merlin closer so that the wizard's head could rest against his shoulder. "We're okay," he repeated, for it seemed to calm Merlin. Right now, he would reach for anything to comfort his friend, whose continuing cries tore at his heart. "Just rest," he whispered, stroking Merlin's back. "We're okay. We're okay."

The wizard's hands slid from Arthur's face and went limp against his chest as he relaxed a bit. He cried just as bitterly as before, but gradually quieted while Arthur spoke to him. No matter how subdued his sobs became, it still seemed as if the very air was choking him. Arthur wanted to lie back down, and could still hold Merlin if he did so, but he worried that it might make breathing more difficult for him. He continued to hold his friend upright, slowly rocking back and forth out of instinct.

"…What did you dream about, Merlin?" He'd wanted to wait until he thought the wizard could reply clearly before asking, but believed it better to encourage him to come out with it as soon as he could, that he might take his mind from it.

A long time passed before Merlin was able to speak. "Th-that day," he stammered at last, his voice unsteady with repressed sobs.

Arthur took only a moment to realize exactly what he meant. "Oh," he breathed, though he had guessed it would have something to do with his "death."

"…And, all- all the… time after," Merlin finished miserably, his warm, quivering breaths tickling Arthur's neck.

_Well, what did I expect?_ Arthur wondered. Merlin had consciously lived the fifteen hundred years that the once king had slept through- essentially alone, waiting for Arthur's return, with no way of knowing how long that would take.

If he had known- would he have chosen to go through all that again?

"You know, there's nothing I can say," Arthur told him after a moment of searching for a suitable reply. "Because there are no words to really tell you how I feel."

Now visible to Arthur's dark-adjusted eyes, Merlin reached up to brush the hair away from his king's face, looking up at him. "Try 'f-if you can," he whispered uncertainly. "'Nd if you can't, j-just talk. …Want to hear your v-voice. Please."

Arthur rubbed the sweaty hair on the back of his friend's head. "I can only say thank you," he admitted. "Because if you weren't here, I'd feel so lost… and terrified. I _was_ terrified, Merlin, when I awoke, because of everything that had changed. This time is _still_ strange to me, and losing everyone…" He shut his eyes against his own surfacing tears, maintaining a mostly level voice. "Losing Gwen would have killed me. But you keep me going, Merlin. Because of your loyalty- because you're here for me." As his voice cracked for the second time, Arthur's tears found their way down his face. "…Because you were alone for centuries so that I would never have to be. For that I love you more than I ever thought I could."

Arthur regretted allowing his emotions to show when his tears led Merlin to begin crying again. Arthur held him tightly as his friend turned his face into the once king's shoulder.

After a time, Merlin shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it; I don't want to think about it- I want to forget," he ran off, his tone rough but determined.

"That's okay," Arthur said with a nod, though he worried _how_ okay it would be. Fifteen hundred years was an incomprehensible time to Arthur. Merlin would not just forget it, even if he wanted to. He had to come to terms with it- talk about it. Arthur wanted to let Merlin know that he could tell him whatever he needed to _when_ever he needed to- but the way Merlin had spoken stopped him. The wizard wasn't ready to face it yet, though all of those years spent alone would haunt him until he did.

_No, _Arthur realized_. They _have_ been haunting him- this doesn't happen overnight. Who knows for how many centuries he's experienced these kinds of nightmares? And who can blame him for not wanting to confront that?_

He grabbed a tissue from the bedside table, wiping Merlin's tear-streaked face before letting him take it to blow his nose. After he'd gone through several more, Merlin lay down with Arthur, nestling close and holding onto his friend's arms.

Arthur pulled the blankets back over them both, tucking it in around the wizard with care. Merlin rubbed his doubtlessly stinging eyes, letting them fall shut as he tried to inhale naturally, though his breaths still hitched from time to time.

Arthur watched him in concern. Merlin's face never fully relaxed, retaining an almost involuntary frown even as he tried to go back to sleep. It pained the once king to think now of the light that had always been on Merlin's face, so much that it was a part of him and his cheerful nature. That anything could impair that light was heartbreaking.

When Merlin opened his eyes as he shifted his grip from Arthur's arm to his waist, he noticed this observation, and met his friend's eyes, blinking his own wearily. As it had done a few times already, the worry conveyed through such prolonged eye contact brought Merlin to the verge of tears, but unlike the other times, he'd cried all that he could for now. He merely frowned in a pained manner and reached out to hold his palm against Arthur's face, as if reassuring himself again that the once king was really there.

Arthur laid his own hand against Merlin's cheek, leaning them both closer so that their foreheads touched. "What happened to make you so… damaged, Merlin," Arthur began. "…I can't change it. But I'm going to do everything in my power to fix you-" He swallowed to steady his voice. "…And to make you whole again."

"You make me whole," Merlin whispered, "by living." He shook his head just slightly. "…I'd forgotten- I didn't notice how…"

"What?" Arthur prompted gently.

"Nothing," Merlin replied, verbally banishing whatever thought had presented itself. "Just… hold me. Please."

Arthur stroked his damp cheek and felt himself smile a bit. _He only ever asks for simple things._ When Merlin released a deep sigh, Arthur was convinced that he would rest at last.

But he knew better than to think that his friend was all right.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It was the first time that he went out by himself since his arrival four weeks ago. Merlin hadn't wanted to let Arthur out of his sight, of course, and Arthur wouldn't deny him the company after the length of time that the wizard had waited for him- but he hadn't really been by himself since he woke up. He needed time to be alone- to work through all that had happened without the worry of how Merlin was feeling.

It was also the first morning that he'd woken without the wizard clinging to him. Arthur slid out at a cautious speed before grabbing a short-sleeved shirt, hooded jacket, and those thick blue pants from a pile on the vacant bed at the other side of the room.

They'd gotten the second bed for Arthur a few days after his arrival. Arthur had slept in it once, and then only half the night before he woke to Merlin crying out in the hold of a nightmare almost as bad as the other. Since then Arthur had gone straight to Merlin's bed in the evening without speaking a word of it. Merlin also said nothing concerning the matter, but Arthur knew he was grateful. And so was he. He'd shared a bed for three years before this all happened, and after losing Gwen, it depressed him to sleep alone.

_I ought to be used to it, _he considered._ I've slept alone for fifteen hundred years._ Still it was comforting to have Merlin there beside him, always ready to reach out if his dreams caused him grief, or if Arthur wasn't allowing himself to cry though his thoughts were lingering on his wife long gone. Merlin could always tell what path his mind was taking, and could comfort him into shedding the tears that Arthur knew he shouldn't bottle up. The once king couldn't be more indebted to him, for that companionship alone.

But he needed this time away. He didn't know where he would go- and perhaps it would only serve to frustrate him to see how his surroundings had changed, but he was willing to chance that, confident that this would ultimately do him.

_'Merlin,_

_ 'I've gone for a walk. I promise I won't be away for long. Please don't worry about me._

_ 'Arthur'_

Arthur quickly scribbled this note onto a piece of paper that he left on the bedside table, taped over the face of the clock so that Merlin would be sure to notice. Before turning to leave, Arthur looked down at his friend. Merlin slept peacefully, close to the hollow space that Arthur had left, that perpetual frown almost completely smoothed out- but not quite.

"I'll be back soon," Arthur whispered, picking up his boots to go.

Merlin woke with no memory of whatever dreams he'd had, and he was glad. Good or even just 'not bad' dreams were scarce for him, even after Arthur had returned.

He knew that Arthur was back, remembered it clearly- but he shifted towards the right-hand side of the bed anyway. Because he couldn't trust his mind anymore, and because he didn't want to get up yet, despite that he knew it was morning. He wanted to reassure himself- just for a bit longer- that Arthur really _had_ come back. After the day began, Merlin would have no explainable reason for hugging Arthur at moments that his friend least expected it. He hoped that one day he'd be able to just _know_ that Arthur was alive without having the need to see and hold him- and would no longer be so ridiculously touchy-feely. For now, though, he couldn't seem to stop himself.

His heart jumped when he felt only more sheet, and finally the edge of the bed.

"Calm down; calm down," he whispered to himself when he began to breathe too quickly. Arthur might be in the bathroom or the kitchen- the only rooms in the flat besides the living area- or he might have just gone to grab the newspaper.

_That's all. Nothing to worry about_, Merlin assured himself, though the possibility that Arthur's presence here had been nothing more than an advanced illusion of his desperate imagination was too strong to dismiss entirely.

He all but jolted out of bed, heading towards the bathroom. The light was off, the door open, but he checked anyway, only to find it empty. He hurried back to the bedroom doorway, looking at the bed again to be sure that Arthur wasn't there. Glancing over the whole room, he now noticed a piece of notepaper taped over his bedside clock, and pulled it off to read it.

_Fine_, he thought when he'd finished, collapsing back onto the bed, though sitting up now. _He's okay. And you can stop worrying. He'll be back soon. …And he _is_ still real._

His biggest relief was that knowledge, and for a short time, everything was okay again.

Then Merlin frowned to himself. "You did leave this, didn't you?" he murmured, looking down at the note he still held. "Maybe… maybe you didn't." Tears stung his eyes at the same moment that a wry smile came over his face. "Perhaps I wrote it myself and left it here to convince me that you're really here." He scoffed, and then laughed harshly. "I _would_ do that, Arthur. That's how desperate I am to have you here with me."

He laughed hard and quietly before realizing that he'd entirely spent his breath, and gasped in an urgent effort to fill his lungs.

For an instant, he flashed back to a day long past. That painful hunger for air after he'd submerged himself in the Lake of Avalon- and by no accident. He'd broken just that one time. He was ashamed of himself for it, but on that day he only succeeded in discovering that no matter how painful the need for air became, he wouldn't lose consciousness or ability. Because he couldn't die.

Sucking in air now, he felt a sob tear at his throat, remembering the pain of nearly drowning, but predominantly that of realizing that he couldn't end the pain in his heart.

After he'd come up and thrown himself on the shore, coughing up all the water he'd taken in, he lay there for days, sleeping most of the time, hardly moving. Hunger tore at his stomach and made his whole body ache but the heartbreak was worse still.

He slid down the edge of the bed to the floor now, pulling his knees up to his chest where he sat and hugging himself as he'd so often done. What had possessed him to imagine that his pain had come to an end?

A/N- Sorry about the suicide attempt. It kind of just happened, and while I'm not sure Merlin's capable, he _does_ care so much about Arthur. Let me know your opinions! After the next two chapters, i.e. ;-D


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Arthur stayed out for longer than he'd expected. He'd not had a good long walk in- well…

Once he'd started moving, he got to noticing the summit of the hill that their town was built upon, and remembered how it had once appeared, covered with trees and foliage, now home to buildings and strange people, streets and cars.

He had died on that hill. Or, something like it. Arthur wasn't sure why this made him want to return, but he made the long trek up the hill, facing the sunrise when he came to a place on the edge that remained untouched.

He sat down at what he believed was close to the place that he and Merlin had last spoken. He couldn't be very sure. He'd not noticed much of anything, he remembered, on that night. After a certain point, he'd only spent the energy it took to open his eyes to look at Merlin as he spoke his last words to him. Another memory emerged in Arthur's mind- one he'd not recalled until just now-, of Merlin calling the dragon. It was a practice the wizard had only briefly explained to him the other week. What disturbed him about the memory was that, however vague, Merlin's raging sorrow had been clear in that broken, panicked cry.

Arthur shuddered, zipping his jacket. He didn't want Merlin to spend another minute alone, and the trip up here had taken the better part of two hours. He hurried on the way back, cutting some of that time, but as he walked through the door to the flat, he wondered if he should have simply not left at all.

The first tangible sign to tell him that something was off was a sound like a voice from the bedroom. Arthur frowned as he shut the door behind him. It didn't sound much like Merlin ever did, but he knew that the voice was his. What was wrong with it was that it seemed so hollow and tired.

And who was he talking to?

When Arthur opened to bedroom door, Merlin sat curled up beside the bed, looking closely at something he held behind his knees.

"I _could_ copy your handwriting," Merlin was saying- without looking up at Arthur. He didn't seem to know that he'd walked in. "Shouldn't be too hard to copy these scrawling letters. Apparently it wasn't."

"Merlin," Arthur said, before he even knew what was going through his own mind. "Who are you talking to?"

Merlin slowly lifted his head, looking a little confused and otherwise blank. "You're back," he breathed, seeming to believe it.

"Yes." Arthur quickly came to sit down in front of him. "Like I said I would be." He reached out for Merlin's hand, but the wizard tugged it away, ducking his head behind his knees.

He was whispering to himself, so softly and quickly that Arthur couldn't make any sense of it.

"_Merlin_," he repeated, clutching his friend's knee. "It's all right. I came back. I'm here."

The muttering continued, and the wizard didn't lift his head.

"Merlin, what's wrong?" Arthur pressed. "_Tell_ _me._"

"Just stop it!" Merlin shouted at him. Arthur jumped, only then realizing that that was what he'd been muttering. "Just stop," Merlin repeated in a whisper, tears surfacing on an already reddened face. "Please stop."

Arthur could only shake his head. "What are you talking about?"

He expected Merlin to get angry or upset again, but he was even more distressed when Merlin smiled easily. "That face," he said gently. "That funny, confused look… I've missed it so much." He held back a sob as he finished speaking. Arthur grip on his knee grew firmer, and Merlin placed a hand over it. "You know…" he said slowly. "This is the first- the first time that you've been an actual… _physical_ hallucination. I always imagine that you're here, Arthur, but guess I never really believe it." He cried, but still managed to speak. "I _did_ believe it," he ground out. "This time, I did."

Arthur shook his head. Did Merlin really believe him to be imagined? Why hadn't the once king anticipated something drastic like this from his friend? He knew how all of this had Merlin out of sorts. He groped for his friend's hands and pressed them against either side of his face. "Merlin," he said. "Look at me."

Though he hesitated, Merlin did bring his eyes up to meet Arthur's. The once king nodded.

"Look at me," he repeated, "_feel_ me, and tell me that I'm not real."

Merlin's eyes fell closed. "I can't," he said.

"M_er_lin," Arthur said stubbornly, reaching out to cup a hand around his face. "I'm here. I swear to you, on my honor, I am _real_. I came back. And I came back for you. You know it. Deep down, you know it. You're afraid, Merlin- I understand, but you have to be strong; you've always been so strong when you need to be. Please be strong for me now."

"I'm not afraid," Merlin informed him without defense. "I have been so… hurt by this for almost as long as I can remember and don't tell me to believe that you've really come back when for _fifteen _hundred_ years_ you never showed."

Though Arthur knew he should understand the pain that motivated Merlin's words, they stung him all the same. "I'm sorry," he said. "Merlin, I can't tell you how sorry I am, but it doesn't mean you can shut down on me. Please just listen to me."

"Listen to you? You're _my_ imagination- everything you say comes from me!" Merlin cried incredulously.

"Damn it, Merlin!" Arthur shouted, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him roughly. "Look, I know that you were alone, but I couldn't help that! It wasn't my fault! If I could have returned to you, I would have in a heartbeat, if I had only known that this would leave you so _wounded_." He released Merlin suddenly, realizing how harsh he'd been. _What right have I to lose my temper so readily after all that he has faced alone?_

"I'm sorry," he whispered now, seeing the emptiness and anger in Merlin's eyes give way to grief again. All at once Arthur was burdened with guilt for his lack of patience as Merlin stared at whatever it was he held, shuddering with the emotions he repressed.

Arthur shook his head, hurrying to move beside him and wrap his arms around his friend, rocking him again. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so, so sorry, Merlin."

Merlin set a yellow, wrinkled and fragile-looking piece of paper on the ground as he brought his own arms around Arthur.

"…What is that?" the once king asked.

When Merlin shook his head, Arthur picked it up, reading it over Merlin's shoulder. The ink was worn and faded, with what were either water or tear stains, the paper warped at the edges from having been held by a sweating hand more than once, but it was in his own handwriting, and still just barely legible.

'_My chain mail needs cleaning sooner rather than later. Hop to it.'_

He could remember writing this note once before a knighting ceremony and leaving it on his table for Merlin to find when he came in. He'd shoved it to the back of his desk drawer later that evening and forgotten about it- Merlin must have salvaged it sometime after his death. That was the only reason he would have preserved it, and held onto it all these years as a keepsake. For some reason, out of all his considerations of Merlin's long, lonesome life, the thought of him clinging to this scrap of paper, its note hastily written, made Arthur so… sad.

He shut his eyes tight. He wanted to be done with this sadness, and he couldn't let Merlin put off talking about this for any longer. It had to be faced- and not here.

"Come on," he said, patting Merlin's back, but not before slipping the note into his jacket pocket.

"Where are we going?" Merlin asked.

"Down to the lake," Arthur replied, helping him up and guiding him towards the kitchen. There he took a few slices of bread and an apple, shoving them into a brown paper bag before going to the front door. Opening it, he waited.

Merlin still stood in the kitchen across the living area, gazing listlessly at his companion, as if still in doubt.

"Come on, Merlin," Arthur told him. "A ghost can't open a door."

With a humorless nod, Merlin followed him out.

A/N- Again, feeling the need to apologize for poor Merlin's loneliness-induced insanity. Don't worry, he has Arthur now to help him heal all those deep-rooted wounds and habits.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The shore they arrived at was empty, but fishermen could be seen at other parts of the shore across the lake. "Who are all of these people?" Arthur marveled aloud.

"The world's a lot more crowded these days, Arthur," Merlin answered in an empty voice. "And busy."

They stopped side by side near the shore where the grass ended. "As someone who's used to passing only a handful of travelers on a four-day journey…" Arthur drew in a deep breath. "It's stifling," he admitted, looking over to see if Merlin agreed.

The wizard stared out at the lake, mentally a thousand miles away. Arthur grasped his arm. "Merlin?" he prompted, to no real reaction. It bothered Arthur that he couldn't get through, but he would be gentle with his friend. "Merlin," he repeated, squeezing his arm.

"…I'm sorry about how I acted back there," Merlin told him abruptly, meeting his eyes. "I want to explain, Arthur, I just…" His eyes slid shut and he shook his head. "I don't understand it myself."

"That's okay," Arthur said, forcing a light tone and a smile for him. "Let's sit down here," he suggested, and they did, the once king keeping an arm around his friend's shoulders.

Merlin took his time, but when he did speak, his words prevented Arthur from even considering a reply at first. "I'm mad, Arthur," Merlin whispered, so softly that it was almost to himself. "I've gone insane… waiting for you… being alone most of time, never really connecting with anyone. It was hard; trying to make friends sometimes- and other times… _usually_ avoiding it. Everyone I associated with- I always knew… I'd outlive them eventually. How could I let anyone get close to me when I knew how painful it would be to part?"

"…So you started talking to one you couldn't lose anymore than you already had," Arthur filled in quietly.

Merlin shook his head to himself, features taut to restrain his feelings, forming wrinkles on what should have been a youthful face. "I'm so stupid," he said. "…Anything I ever had to say, I'd say it to you when I was alone- but you weren't there. I'd talk to you constantly, some days, and I'd imagine the words that you'd reply. I wouldn't even acknowledge that I was talking to thin air."

"Merlin," Arthur said firmly, "you weren't stupid. …You were lonely. It's understandable. You needed someone to talk to."

"But my determination to _ignore that_ reality has made me doubt what _is _real, Arthur," Merlin replied miserably. "I've walked through life in a haze for centuries. The world held so little beauty or meaning for me after you died. …It's only now that I realize-" he shrugged- "I've done nothing with all of this time. I've stayed alive, but for no purpose."

"We both know that isn't true," Arthur countered, stubbornly frowning. "You're here for me now, aren't you? And you did enough within your first twenty-seven years of life for all the generations that you've lived since. Merlin." He held his friend's chin in his hand, securing his attention. "Don't ever think that time, or life, has been wasted on you. I know you- and I know that you've done good wherever you saw an opportunity." Arthur stroked Merlin's chin. "And don't ever really think that you're stupid."

Merlin's glistening eyes held his. "I want to stay right here," he whispered. "I want to be with you and know that you're alive and never let you out of my sight. It's ridiculous, but I can't help it."

"No," Arthur said softly, letting him hide his face against the once king's shoulder. "It's not ridiculous. I understand. I'm sorry I had to leave you earlier. I just needed to… I needed time to think alone; sort through things. Can you understand that?"

Merlin nodded, lifting his head with a forced smile. "Yeah."

At the strength he showed, Arthur felt his own expression lighten, truly happy for almost the first time since his return.

"…I remember," Merlin whispered now, quietly but with deep joy, "…that smile." His own peaceful grin broadened, finally without a touch of grief. "That crooked smile. I missed it so much." He brushed Arthur's cheek with his thumb before tilting their heads together so that their foreheads met. "…You're back," he breathed.

An honest, proper laugh escaped Arthur, and he clutched Merlin's wrist. "I'm back," he repeated. "Back to stay with you."

"…Please don't ever leave me again," Merlin requested, to which Arthur had to shake his head.

"It's not in my power to promise, Merlin," he answered gently. "If I can, I'll stay with you forever. But if anything does happen to me-"

"Don't," Merlin cut him off sharply, but Arthur had to finish.

"I'd watch over you forever," he said. "So you would never have to feel alone."

Merlin didn't say anything for a moment, but finally sniffed in a deep breath to keep his nose from running. He patted Arthur's face gently before drawing his own away.

"I meant what I said, Merlin," the once king told him. "About fixing you. Taking care of you. …I guess I can start by getting you to eat something." He picked up the brown bag that he'd brought and offered Merlin the apple and bread. Merlin picked the apple and took a bite out of it as Arthur started on the soft, white bread.

It was different from anything that had been made in Camelot, as so many of the foods now were. He'd gone through two slices before Merlin handed him the apple, of which he took a bite.

"Should have brought more food, for your appetite," the wizard said with a grin.

Arthur's glare was only half-hearted. Allowing a smile to win over, he remembered something else he'd brought to the lake, and reaching into his pocket, pulled out the old note.

Merlin looked at it as if both fearing it and fearing to lose it. He looked with hesitance at Arthur.

"You've no need of it anymore," Arthur announced, balling up the folded paper between his hands. Merlin winced but said nothing as the once king flung it far into the lake, but near enough that they could watch it sink.

Another glance at Merlin assured Arthur that he'd done the right thing. He enjoyed his friend's relief for a moment before handing him some bread. "Eat up," he ordered. "You're every bit as skinny as you've always been."

"I don't think that's ever going to change," Merlin remarked.

Arthur's intent expression caught his eye. "I wouldn't want that," he told the wizard. "I want you, to _always_, be you, Merlin."

He wondered for a moment if his friend would recall the last time that he'd spoken these words. So much time had passed, and many details of their old lives had been since forgotten by the wizard. But then the smile upon Merlin's face grew- the only lines upon his face those of happiness.

He laid a hand over Arthur's on the grass between them. "For that," he said earnestly, "thank _you_."

12-27-12

A/N- If you think that this story is similar to "Damaged at Best," plz keep in mind that _this_ was written first. I didn't realize when writing "Damaged at Best" that I was re-using some of the same themes.

I sincerely, very much hope that you enjoyed! But I won't know unless you tell me! ;-D Please comment! You rock!


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